


The Loneliest Moment

by zaan



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First and Only Time, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Mutual Supportiveness and Sex, POV Elim Garak, Rare Pairings, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaan/pseuds/zaan
Summary: Jadzia and Garak find themselves in a similar place and turn to each other for comfort.





	The Loneliest Moment

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place immediately after the episode If Wishes Were Horses in Season 1. In this episode, aliens make the residents' deepest wishes come to life - this is not necessarily a good thing, if what you want you can never have. In the episode we see Julian conjure up a submissive Jadzia, but we don't see what Jadzia wants, and Garak never makes an appearance.

It is dark in Quarks, at least where he sits, upstairs in a back corner, bar lights dying in haze and shadows.  He does not often sit here, with its poor view and poorer service.  Tonight, though, he is torn between needs: isolation against association, solitude against solace.  Tonight he hurts as he has not since his exile, if then, for hope is crueler than despair.  The longed-for message.  Short, simple words of forgiveness, of return.  A false message, false words.  Only his fantasy, the dream ephemeral in his hands.

Others, with simpler desires, simpler lives, now drink and laugh, share stories of absurdity and fun.  He wants to hate them, but he doesn't, the envy melancholic and raw.  He thinks, as he sometimes does, of death.  Beauty in the promise of a sharp knife.  He wouldn't, though, not here, with his body subject to Federation pity, Bajoran scorn.  The thought of it is insupportable.  

There is the wire, most nights.  Tonight it lies dead, the euphoria it promises cold and chill.  There are trysts, some nights.  Tonight masks are burdensome, games heavy. 

He weighs the danger of a second glass of kanar, decides against it.  The second glass will lead smoothly to the third, the third will slide easily into the fourth.  He knows that addiction is easy, perhaps inevitable, if he stays in this place long enough - but it will not be public, his descent.  Instead, he returns to his contemplation of Jadzia Dax.

Jadzia sits alone, an unaccustomed sight.  Dax - Jadzia? - likes noise, crowds, large beefy men with spiked dollars, exotic erotic women with brazen lips.  Tonight, she spurns the numerous advances she receives, wordlessly, abruptly.   She watches him, too, tonight, with steady, dark, unfathomable eyes.  Now, though, when she captures his gaze, she rises, approaches, joins him without a word. 

He returns his attention to his kanar, shimmering and blue, feeling the heat of her beside him, hearing the rustle as she leans forward.

"It was cruel."  It is not merely a statement, it is a question, a confession.

"To some," he concedes.  So they do share something, he thinks.  She too wants desperately, is denied, perhaps in this, Jadzia's life, perhaps in echoes of old lives.  She too finds masks burdensome tonight, does not want to be 'Dax'.

"Have you had Ishaya?"

His eyes widen.  Ishaya is rare, expensive, a potent spirit.  It heightens all the senses, taste, touch, scent, sound, sight, while lengthening their experience, slowing the advancement of time.  He has only had it once, an intimate gathering Tain had arranged, a victory celebration for the highest echelon of Order operatives.  To say it was memorable is an understatement.

He inclines his head.  She waits.  "A drink best enjoyed in ... intimate company," he says.

She inclines her head, a neat counterpart to his own gesture.

He weighs the offer, her beauty, his loneliness.  Their moods, their needs, aligned in a rare eclipse.  There is danger, there is always danger, but there is little he cares about losing, tonight.  She watches, waits.  He nods again, silently.  She gets up and leaves without a word.  He applauds her discretion.  It would not do for them to be seen together.

He nurses his drink for another fifteen minutes and then leaves.  When he enters her quarters, he is enveloped and surprised by the warmth, the darkness, her still form waiting.  They circle, touching only with eyes and thoughts.  Jadzia lifts two small glasses, the thin honey-white liquid glimmering.  A mouthful quickly swallowed.  It is like stepping into a cold stream, the shock of awareness sharp, immediate. 

The intensity of her enters him, the smell of her, the heat of her.  Each spot glows, is examined in an eternity of a second.  Languid spring sunshine kisses, sultry summer sweat.  Clothes lost, removed, pushed aside.  Slow, everything is slow, stretched, held.  He sits back, she straddles his lap, bodies flush.  Small ripples of movement, subdued, intense.  Skin, spots, ridges, scales are touched, kissed, pressed.  He holds her close, aligns, opens her.  When he everts, it is oh so slow, the pleasure stretched and shimmering as he unfurls.  She gasps, pushes down.  They hold one another close, still.  She is clamped around him, he rocks slowly, gently.  His mouth at her breast, her mouth on his neck, and they come and come, the climax like a frozen waterfall thawing in the sun.

After, they float, still seeking.  They shower, and he takes her again there, harder, holding her weightless in the water. 

They towel each other off, rubbing and stroking with the soft cotton.

They collapse into bed, drifting, holding.

Garak knows he cannot stay, cannot bring dreams into the harsh light of morning.  He tucks the blankets around her, kisses her hair, dresses in the darkness, and leaves.

Back in his quarters, he lies in the darkness, content, hopeful.  If the station is bitter and cold, the warmth and connection there, though rarer, is a sweeter and sharper pleasure than any other he has known.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
